Impressionist or Pinup Art?
by CampionSayn
Summary: Lovers will always be important to each other; even from one universe or life to the next. But, they're not the most important things to the world. That could be any number of people, including—or not—the Zeroes, Ritsu, Yuiko, Kio, etc. One-shots, with many pairings, including AU and gentle crossover. Mostly Ritsuka/Soubi.
1. Word Spell AU-:-Nursery Rhymes

Title: Impressionist or Pinup Art?  
Summary: Lovers will always be important to each other; even from one universe or life to the next. But, they're not the most important things to the world. That could be any number of people, including—or not—the Zeroes, Ritsu, Yuiko, Kio, etc. One-shots, with many pairings, including AU and gentle crossover. Mostly Ritsuka/Soubi.  
Warning: Some one-shots will include graphic violence, sappy fluff and comfort, hinted dub-con or rape, sexuality, under-age romance, crossover universal merging, spoilers from the manga, etc. Also, hetero pairings and friendships that may or may not EVER come to pass in the manga. Written warnings will be posted if the one-shot goes above high 'T' and borders 'M'. Prompts are welcome.  
Dedication: To **Kirra** **kills** for being the sweet-spark that she is in adding to conversations and answering questions and being open to new things. Also, this is sort of the opportunity for me to say "congrats on getting a boyfriend!" And, you know…stuff.

* * *

_-:-_  
_in the morning you ask me to be on top of you,_  
_then we take a nap, we're late for school._  
_-First turn to me… (Benadette Mayer)_

_An apple tree puts to shame all the men and_  
_women that have attempted to dress since_  
_the world began._  
_-H.W. Beecher._

_…by the rules of the game of **Loveless**, Yuiko would make an excellent Fighter Unit._  
_-Christine Boylan (essayist of Loveless vol. 7)_

* * *

bingo-card: Word Spell AU-:-Nursery Rhymes-:-

**Oh**, **Butcher**-:-

His ears are still attached to his head and his tail still sways with the rhythm similar to a dainty cat, but lately (_school days of early fall were closing in with red leaves tanned with orange and yellow falling to the sidewalk and lawn of the high school Ritsuka and his friends had been attending going on three years_) Ritsuka had been wondering what it would be like to lose them to Soubi.

He wasn't a pervert, even though Yayoi told him constantly (_the both of them being more chatty now that the two of them found similarity in liking older men; Kio there with Soubi every day after class to carry Yayoi's books_) that with hormones coming in more readily with puberty it was perfectly natural to think about…and vocalize without realizing it. He just felt like it was almost time for him to no longer be a child. It wasn't that he held anything against people who kept their ears and tail (_Shinonome-sensei had finally lost hers the year before in a 'hook-up' that ended her reign as the second oldest virgin elementary teacher—the old bat who taught Latin still reigning queen; Yuiko likely to keep hers until she found someone taller than her—which would mean finding someone taller than Soubi since they stood at the exact same height at present_) but some mornings he woke up with…

Soubi said that when he was young, he would claw at his own ears and tail to make his morning erection go away, but when Ritsuka put it to practice he found that his nails were too sharp and left gashes with the rubbing. He was tired to death of waking up to his own blood on his fingers and bed covers and having to swab sheep-fluffy cotton swabs of iodine on his self-inflicted wounds.

Stepping down the front walk of the high school, Yayoi having already left for the day an hour earlier and Yuiko going to Seven Voices full-time, Ritsuka tried not to think about it as he spotted Soubi standing at the front of the school gates, cigarette in his mouth less harsh in smell as it had been years before _(he didn't know, but Soubi had switched to ultra-lights when Ritsuka's name appeared on his belly and __**Beloved's**__ name healed and vanished with nothing behind but the thorny vines on the Fighter's neck; this taking place at about the same time Yayoi yelled at Sagan Youji and all the lights in their junior high school flashed out in broken glass and wiring and Yuiko mostly stopped referring to herself in the third person) _but still harsh enough for Ritsuka to snatch it from Soubi's mouth before saying anything.

The cigarette went out under Ritsuka's foot without a single sound—not even the leftover tobacco crunching in the white paper—and he fished around in his pocket for the gum he bought from the store every morning before school (pure red cinnamon that looked like raw hamburger when chewed on), pushing it into Soubi's mouth, "If you want to kiss me, chew first and we'll see."

"Mm," Soubi surrendered, teeth grinding against the gum for exactly two seconds before catching the sacrifice off-guard and planting a soft press of wet lips to dry lips and making Ritsuka sputter.

He hummed cheerily when the teen broke the contact and practically squeaked, "Cheat!"

**Oh**, **Baker**-:-

Yayoi liked to read the recipes for apple, cranberry, blackberry and chocolate melody pies aloud to Kio when the lime haired artist came back from those oft retched meetings with his daughter. The words in English sometimes made the glass cups in their cupboards ring in opposing sounds and if he wasn't careful to keep his mind blank in the reading Kio would become covered in magic manifestations, but it kept the man calm and got him back to behaving like himself rather than the depressed person that walked through the door pulling at some of his earrings in frustration.

"So, if I peel the red apples and put the skins aside for later, then we can suck up all the sweetness of the fruit and—"

The banana bread that he had started on when Kio left, with an arm full of daffodils, was tucked into the oven, scent wafting through the air (_some of the stickiness of the meal was still slick along his wrists from grinding and pulling and kneading at it; the scent impeccably better than any cologne the teen would ever buy_) as Kio finally got out of his seated position in the living room and wrapped his arms around the boy's middle. His teeth against a grey-tipped kitten ear made Yayoi flinch a little, but the tongue that soothed the teasing nip caused a scarlet blush and kept his (getting better) English going on to describe use of chocolate chips.

The oven dinged the high-pitched bell of the egg-timer that caused Yayoi to drop the recipe book and push Kio gently off of him to pull on the oven-mitts that the artist had picked out before they had started dating. They were mismatched green and blue, one had a black rooster stitched on the tip of the right mitt's over-large thumb and the left was checkered with robin's egg blue daisies.

Kio groaned but it stopped from being lengthened out when the oven opened and the feel of heat from inside the metal box washed over his body from below his stomach to above his ankles; Yayoi's face heated entirely from both the hot air and the sound that Kio made.

It was just so… Yayoi couldn't stop his tail from curling at that moment.

**Oh**, **Pain** **Killer** **Maker**-:-

The Zero boys would loathe to admit that moving in with a girl was probably the best thing that could have happened to them since Soubi; so they never mentioned it. They just paid their share of the rent on time and constantly went over to continuously bother Soubi when the Dumb Girl (_it was nice to have something like a sister in Yuiko, even though they would never call her that, her breasts had leveled out to just B-cups and her height was only just beginning to stop in the eleventh grade and so it meant that teasing her was getting difficult_) was either at Seven Voices trying to come up with a spell without breaking something or at nursing school for whatever reason.

_(They didn't think how her turning into a nurse was probably an effort to keep herself, Soubi, Yayoi or the Zeroes themselves alive after realizing that just keeping a first-aid kit around and hoping for the best when using it was not going to cut it with Seimei and Nisei still running around. If she could barely voice that as a reason, then it might not have been right to begin with.)_

Nagisa might have basically been the only mother they ever had (_teaching them about pain, about survival, about why it was unlikely that they might live very long) _but the pink haired bumbler gave them a female figure that they could see as potentially more helpful. She did buy a thermometer that hung next to the door and explained to them that if it was below fifty degrees indoors they were to turn the furnace up to seventy and make sure to wear dry socks and thick sweatshirts.

And other things that she said without thinking about were helpful, too.

"Hot and cold are the same if they are in equal numbers but if they are not equal then they could mean plenty of other things," Yuiko recited from another Seven Voices book that Ritsu-sensei had told her to _"Read, goddammit; unlike other Blank Fighters like Soubi your spells and language are still pitiful_," on her way back to her apartment where Natsuo and Youji were sucking on each other's tongue on the couch, Youji's foot resting atop the armrest and bleeding from a battle they'd won, but not without injuries he couldn't notice; waiting for her to bandage it.

"Like what?" Natsuo paused, annoying Youji when the darker haired Zero paused running his tongue up his throat to question Yuiko while simultaneously helping her with the gauze she said was better for Youji's blood flow, "Temperature doesn't mean anything to us."

"Of course it does," Yuiko replied, fingers carefully measuring the gauze in inches before she rummaged around the first-aid kit for alcohol wipes to removes loose scabs and lint that stuck to Youji's blood from inside his heavy boots, "Soft warmth is like a hug or fresh towels out of the dryer. Soft cold is like spring rain or those smooth pebbles fished out of the river. Really, really hot is like… meat burning and smoking in the oven and really, really cold is like when you can't breathe in winter or when a full soda can explodes in the freezer."


	2. bingo card: 2 am-:-

Great thanks to the people that have decided to favor and follow this. I'm grateful, really, really.

PS: I'll take requests for this, if anyone ever gets interested and I get bored.

* * *

_-:-  
What does Borderline Personality mean, anyhow?  
"It's what they call people whose lifestyles bother them."  
-Girl, Interrupted._

-:-  
_-Last time you beat her up, did she dump you?_  
_**-He was arrested but never formally charged with assault.**__  
-Okay, fine; after you __broke her jaw__, did she still want to date you?  
-Criminal Minds._

* * *

**bingo card: 2 a.m.**-:-

**Astronaut**-:-

If Ritsuka bit his tongue hard enough and fast enough, he could prick it deep and to the nerve. This is something that a sane person wouldn't do on purpose, but Ritsuka did something with the blood that could bring about a sane reason.

At least, when he showed the end result to Soubi.

It was an accident, this time, on this day (_people were wandering about the streets in huddled groups carrying heavy looking boxes with the cardboard wet from the fresh snow falling, shavings of the brown treading off into the air and onto the ground or clinging to their clothes; or doubles chatting about diamond earrings, sapphire rings, garnet necklaces with high giggling voices while sipping from coffee more expensive than well-preserved, but used books; single people like Ritsuka wondering about their happiness or just in too much of a hurry to do shopping in private_) in middle December. A branch overhead while crossing a street had smashed into the boy's (_yes, those ears still remained, cold and bent in the wind_) face and his tongue was in the wrong position, just between his canines.

"Crap…" he cursed, silent as the snow, continuing pace and grabbing a loose napkin from inside his heavy black coat (_a left-over from Soubi spending a night with him and not wanting the clothing back—Ritsuka didn't complain, though; it still smelled like the man_) to dab against his tongue. Once, twice, pull away, fold and tuck back into the pocket to forget about until he got to Soubi's apartment, newly bought, very expensive coffee for the both of them (_one is too bitter and black and Ritsuka can't understand why Soubi likes it at all; the other is something that Soubi can never remember, with at least seven descriptive words that he screws up whenever he tries to buy it for Ritsuka as a romantic gesture_) to enjoy while the elder continues painting in the apartment that will remain in the degrees near thirty until he finished. Ritsuka didn't like to bother Soubi's creativity, but he hated the inspiration that only stayed when Soubi's long fingers on his paintbrushes were numb.

Entering the more warm than expected apartment, the smell of chemicals circling the air and tangling with the scent of their coffee; it made Ritsuka feel choked with heat and he took off his coat to hang it up.

Turning from his painting to greet the boy, Soubi's eyes—sharp and clear, glasses perched so he can take in two different points of view for his new work with greens and browns on canvas—caught the sight of Ritsuka's napkin (_open pockets can be hazardous, but he was already inside, so Soubi wouldn't say anything_) on the floor.

Spread out on the white of the fabric, seams from folding cresting its middle, was what looked like a butterfly on a blotting used by psychiatrists when they asked new patients, "_Can you tell me what this looks like?"_

* * *

**Carry to the Car**-:-

There can be very little said between Mei and Mimuro as they left the hospital; her hair and ears hidden in her cap and the shadow of its rim covering her facial features in shade that almost made the blackening of her eye disappear. However, shading couldn't cover up the butterfly bandages and stitches meant to heal the split from just below the bruising of her eye to the edge of her jaw and the crook of her ear. And just tucking both hands into her large jacket couldn't cover up the thin wood case and bindings about her thin left hand that would come off sooner than one that was made of solid white that itched and felt like stone.

Words come flying from the tall boy's mouth the second they leave the taxi cab (_he paid, she didn't argue, which was all wrong because she hated when he paid for anything unless she was punishing him and even then she would turn up her nose like some high class bitch that they both made fun of on good days not spent in the company of Akame Nisei) _and Mei shirks into herself because he sounds dark and serious and not at all like some days when it seemed he just talked aloud because he obviously loved the sound of his own voice.

"You little, three-inch fool," the insult is a cover; he and she must keep up the appearance of their mutual dislike for the conversation to go anywhere and they both know it, "How could you go out alone in the middle of the night to meet a guy who you've only met twice—without me? How could that shrew's mind of yours come to the conclusion that someone older than myself could give you happiness?"

"I wasn't expecting him to make me happy," Mei defended, right hand trying to scratch at her stitches before Mimuro grabbed her wrist (_gentle, soft, restraining himself from pulling the hand closer to himself until he could bring her close enough to hug her little figure and keep her safe like the magic cloaks and shrouds held and kept secret by many, many mythological—and powerful—figures and friends and lovers_) and paused before assisting her up the stoop that led to his apartment building; her left leg had a limp and helping her balance made him feel a little better_ (an act like someone giving a child back an umbrella in the rain after high winds ripped it from their hands,) _"I was expecting him to offer up information."

"Information that you asked about Septimal Moon that made him attack you," Mimuro ground out, buzzing them both into his door with a clicker that Mei had applied little green frog stickers to when he wasn't looking, "Because you obviously don't know, despite Nisei saying so, that Bloodless is **dangerous**."

"I don't **like** Nisei," Mei knew that her Sacrifice was aware of this, but he never seemed to understand it, "So, I had to figure it out for myself. Now I know… better."

Mimuro's hands held her around her middle and he paid little attention to her insults as he carried her up the three flights of stairs to his doorway; the elevator was broken and he wasn't going to wait for her to wear herself out trying to get up them by herself and her own foolish pride, "Yes, and you will never do this again."

"I will so—"

"That is an order, not a request. Please."

Her body went limp and her mouth shut, but she was far from happy and they, Mimuro knew, would fight about this in the future.

But, for the moment, her only implication for plotting out that future argument was her tail flicking back and forth and then smacking him so hard between the legs that he almost dropped her, but settled for hissing and pretending he didn't notice how red her face went when she realized that she hit something that she hadn't intended to.


End file.
